


Perchance To Dream

by Penguinteacup



Category: Rush (2013)
Genre: Drunk!James, Fluffyish, Implied Slash, M/M, Niki is in denial, angry!Niki, flatmates, nothing happens
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-01
Updated: 2013-11-01
Packaged: 2017-12-31 04:07:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1027050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Penguinteacup/pseuds/Penguinteacup
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'Dancing on the kitchen tiles, yeah you make my life worthwhile'</p>
            </blockquote>





	Perchance To Dream

**Author's Note:**

> This is the other fic I mentioned t'other day. Wow two fics in a week, I'll never be this prolific again.
> 
> Niki and James are flatmates and that is all the context I have.
> 
> This is a work of fiction, no offence intended.

It is late, almost two am and Niki can’t sleep. He feels restless and thoughts are whirring through his head like race cars doing laps. He thinks about last week’s race, whether he could’ve been a bit quicker on that last corner, remembers James’ silly smug face on the podium saying ‘Better luck next time eh rat?’ He frowns into the pillow. He remembers James at the party that night, everyone swarming around him like flies. And yes of course James is the golden boy, he has all the charm that Niki lacks but does he have to be so … irritating about it?

  
And then of course James has the good looks, he has noticed that. It would be impossible not to, really. If he was blind to his imposing stature, his ridiculously long blonde hair that falls about his face and his schoolboy grin, he would certainly have inferred his charms from the giggles and smiles of the simpering ladies (and a few men) that follow him around and hang on his every word. It is not that he is jealous, not really. Sure it must be nice to have that power over people, have them like you all the time but that does not win races. And that is all that matters to Niki. And that is all that interests him about James. How he drives and whether he can beat Niki. Well, that and whether he is ever going to wash up that decaying cereal bowl that’s been hanging around the kitchen for weeks. Niki refuses to wash it up, he is not James’ lackey. But these, these are the things that keep him up at night. Not James’ prettiness, certainly not, just whether James will beat him and putrid mould growing on white crockery.

  
Well that and the flat door that has just clattered shut with a drunken swing followed by exaggerated shushes and throaty laughter. Niki grits his teeth in annoyance. He will not let James keep him from sleep again. He is tired. He will sleep. He pulls a pillow out from under him and pushes it down over his head, muttering angrily in German. It almost works, despite the low hum of chatter and the banging of cupboards from outside his bedroom door, he is drifting gently, slowly into unconsciousness … And then there is a loud, unholy smash. The sound of glass splintering into shards against kitchen tiles. It must be rage that pulls Niki up from the warm, soft safety of his bed, rage that stops him feeling that sharp chill of the cold flat against his bare chest as he swings open his bedroom door, and yells across the living room at the tall blonde in the kitchen area, ‘James, what the fuck are you doing?’

‘Ah, Niki come and join us,’ says James in his customary laidback drawl sounding entirely unperturbed and completely oblivious to his flatmate’s anger. ‘I was just telling Sasha, (it is Sasha isn’t it?) all about you … ’ The possible-Sasha looks even drunker than James and is clinging to his arm like otherwise she might fall down. She smiles at Niki briefly before losing interest and resting her head on James’ shoulder. Niki ignores her and scowls pointedly at the glass on the floor before looking back up at James who is swigging calmly from a bottle of what looks like champagne.

  
‘You do realise it is two in the morning? And that some of us are trying to sleep?’ He runs a hand across his hair in exasperation.

James refuses to look even a little bit apologetic in the face of Niki’s anger and that’s just rude really. Instead he smiles broadly and waves his hand, the one with the bottle in it, gesturing Niki over, ‘Come on, don’t be boring, come and join us, we’ll have a drink, it’ll be fun!’ He sounds genuinely hopeful and more than a little inebriated. He cocks his head to the side so that his blonde hair falls into his face and Niki is vaguely aware that he is giving him his best ‘puppy dog eyes’ that he uses to charm girls into coming home with him. Niki folds his arms and sighs.

  
‘I do not want to sit around with you listening to your drunk talk thank you very much, I want to fucking sleep.’ Somehow it doesn’t quite come out as harsh as he intends it too, it sounds instead like he is trying to reason with a small child. James pouts like one for a second before deciding that no, he will not accept Niki’s reasoning.

‘Sleep? Sleep’s boring. Why would you sleep when you can have a little drink with us, the night is young, we can have a _dance_ …’ He unfurls possible-Sasha from around his waist and proceeds to twirl her unsteadily under his arm. She totters around on high heels gracelessly, smiling but looking a lot like she doesn’t have a clue what’s going on. James laughs triumphantly, eyes on Niki, and then abandons the girl for a moment to do his own little drunken dance. Snaking his denim-clad hips and moving his arms and feet with surprising co-ordination to imaginary music, all the while a bright grin on his face. The corners of Niki’s mouth twitch despite himself. James laughs, ‘See, ’s fun! Come on Niki!’

Niki shakes his head to hide what might be a smile. He sighs. ‘I will see you in the morning, when you are complaining of a headache no doubt…’ He turns back to his bedroom, hearing as he does James’ jovial complaint about him being a boring old man. Niki shuts the door and pauses for a moment before he climbs back into his bed, the sheets now cold against his skin. He closes his eyes and this time sleep feels like it might come as his thoughts become less like chasing race cars and get hazy and indistinct. Thoughts of tanned skin and tight jeans and smug, silly smiles.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Shakespeare's Hamlet cos I'm highbrow.
> 
> Song lyrics at the beginning from McFly's 'All About You' cos I'm really not.


End file.
